


Truth.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: I need to take a shower.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for stir_of_echoes prompt - Truth Serum. This is....a lot more...well it's not what I pictured, that's for sure, not entirely sure it's what Stir pictured either O_O

Well fuck it all, that is the very _last_ time he lets Castiel go rifling through the stores in the bunker. How difficult is it to fill a syringe with holy water?

For the Angel with the bird brain, apparently _very_!

Sam sits back on his haunches and squeezes his thighs together, tries desperately to rub away some of the tension building in his tightening balls, "Dean, please, stop."

Dean smirks, flashes a tantalising glint of porcelain white natural fang, and tilts his head, "Tell you what Sammy, I'm gonna have to get me the name of your supplier. Oh, and tell Cas he's welcome to dose me any time."

Sam barely manages to bite back the groan resting painfully at the back of his throat, "Cas, leave."

Castiel shuffles his feet and looks down at the Devil's trap encircling the older Winchester, "I did not know, Sam, I did not mean to....how was I supposed to know they kept VeritasSerrum down here. It was meant to be a myth!"

Sam closes his eyes and sighs before pointing towards the door, "Just, go, okay?"

"But will you, I mean are you going to be..."

Dean chuckles and watches Cas try to come up with some excuse to stay, to stand guard over Sam, "Go on Cas, run along, big bad Sammy can handle it! Boy can he handle it"

Castiel backs out of the room, quietly pulling the stacks closed behind him.

Sam refuses to make eye contact with Dean, not whilst he can feel the tip of his cock raking against the inside of his fly, metal rasping sharply along his weeping slit.

Note to self, when trying to interrogate your Demon brother, wear underwear!

Dean shifts in his chair, tightly wound rope scratching deliciously against his red raw flesh, "You remember I told you I was having trouble not ripping your throat out, with my teeth?"

Sam's heart beat ratchets up as he remembers with perfect clarity how very much he'd like the sound of that, as embarrassing as it is to admit it even to himself; the idea of those fangs sinking into his jugular, the feel of his blood flowing thickly over Dean's tongue, "Y...yes?

That's it, he's got him.

Dean may be the one tied down, pinned to a chair, no way out, but Sam's the one that's trapped. Caged like a lion with vital red fluid dripdripdripping down the side of a hunk of Zebra flank, "I wouldn't _just_ have ripped your throat out, Sammy. There's so much **more** I could do with that beautiful body of yours."

He doesn't realise he's moved until he's standing inches away from Dean's straining legs, "Really? You think I would've gone down with out a fight?"

Moth to a flame, "Oh Sam Sam Sam, you'd have gone down, you'd have gone down and you'd have been begging me for more. It's amazing what shapes you can bend someone in to when there's no pesky soul running blocker for your darker urges."

The room begins to spin as the images Dean's words conjure up take root behind his eyes, "You're a smug bastard, who says you'd be on top?"

What the _fuck_ is he doing? Is he mad; flirting with one of creations most vicious creatures!

But Sam can't help himself, it's been so long since he felt ragged nails against sensitive flesh and Dean always was a damn fine tease.

There's a moment, a single second where the air in the room becomes so thick Dean can barely see through it. With the darkness in his soul he can see in all the shades of the rainbow, even the ones they don't mention in that god awful song, and he can _taste_ Sam's need. It's plain as day and shimmering between them, he can coax it out of him, or he can drag it kicking and screaming, "Oh you know what, I knew, I just _knew_ you'd be hot for me like this little brother. It's such a shame it would be _morally_ **wrong** because I'm betting you haven't had a good hard fuck since I went dark side, have you?"

Sam allows himself the comfort of closing his eyes and listening to the voice of a man who no, longer exists, "Tell me, tell me what it is you want to do..."

"What **I** want to do, or what _he_ wanted to do, because you know we're completely different people, right?"

Sam steps forward, eyes still closed, and begins to unbutton his fly, "Just, tell me."

Dean watches the tip of Sam's cock reveal itself, inch by tantalising inch, and he licks his lips, can't help himself, knows he's only responding to the fleeting vestiges of feelings he can sense hanging somewhere close to where his soul used to reside, but he gets an overwhelming urge to reach out and palm that cock, watch it swell to it's full glorious length between his fingers.

He tries to convince himself it's simply a big fat dick, same as any other, but there's  a fluttering of something dangerously close to emotion within his chest, " **I** want to watch that tight ass sink onto my cock; thick and hard and full, tip seeping, come dribbling down the shaft, mingling with your sweat. The sound of your heart racing next to my ear as I sink my teeth into your flexed throat. Every inch of you opening up to me."

Sam's eyes finally open, finally focus, and it's as if he's been thrust head first into the most surreally erotic dream, but his hands reach out, fumble for Dean's zip, "More!"

Dean can barely concentrate on the images he's been allowing to swirl in his mind for the last few weeks, every time he's thought of Sam, every time he's taken himself in hand, "I want you to ride me Sammy, I want you to fuck me, dry. I want to split you open and bury myself deep enough that you can't sit down without feeling me there. Without you knowing that even like this, you want me!"

With a groan so deep Sam's not sure it even came from him, he rips his trousers off the ends of his legs, almost tangling himself in his boot laces, before straddling the still hog tied Demon wearing his brothers face sat before him, cock jutting proud from his open fly, pre-come glistening in the dull low lighting of the dungeon, " _Yes!_ "

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel watches Sam walk into the room, limping, red faced, and breathing heavily, "Are you okay? He isn't, he's not loose, is he?"

Sam practically runs passed the Angel, refusing to allow any kind of eye contact, knowing that the minute he lifts his face, it will be obvious what exactly he's been doing down in that dungeon with a man who's no better than the animals they hunt every day, "He's prepped, first syringe administered. You...you go watch him for a while, I gotta take a shower."


End file.
